


Need You

by invisame



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22183693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisame/pseuds/invisame
Summary: Geralt. Monsters. You. Confessions. I suck at Summaries. Just read it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	Need You

You stepped into the _Rotten Pig_ and ran your gaze over the patrons. It was a horrible name for a pub but setting eyes on the cliental told you how they may have arrived upon it. No witcher. Damn it. You’d been trying to find Geralt for weeks. Every time you thought you’d caught up to him, you’d discover he’d left days before.

A familiar tune caught your ear and you followed it across the room. You grinned when Jaskier came into view behind a rather rowdy group. If anyone knew where Geralt was, it would be the bard. You leaned against a pole, arms crossed over your chest as you listened to him perform.

“Nicely done, bard,” you called as he finished.

He turned with wide eyes and grinned when he saw it was you. A moment later he was in front of you shaking your hand enthusiastically. “Y/N! I haven’t seen you in an age. How are you? Any tales you’d care to share with your favorite bard?”

“What do you need my tales for? Geralt is far more interesting than me.”

Jaskier’s smile fell into a sour look. “Yes, well Geralt doesn’t appreciate me like you do.”

You huffed and sat at a nearby table. He took the seat across from you. “He likes you. He’s just grumpy.”

“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one. He’s worse since you left. Downright miserable he is.”

Part of you was happy to hear it. After all, Geralt had been the one to declare that he didn’t need your help after you saved him from a particularly nasty clawing. You weren’t about to stick around where you weren’t wanted. Even if you did make more money with him at your side. For some reason people hesitated to hire a lone female to rid them of their monster problem. It didn’t help that your gear had you looking like anything but a witch.

“Where is he, Jaskier?”

“In the swamp. _Bloedzuiger_ keeps attacking people traveling on the road.”

You curled your lip. _Bloedzuigers_ were basically giant leeches that spat acid. “Well, that won’t make a very pretty ballad will it?”

The bard tilted his head from side to side as if he was considering it. Before he could say anything, the door slammed open. Geralt filled the opening. He was dirty and bloody but appeared mostly unharmed. Your gaze trailed him as he walked over to the man sitting at the end of the bar. A merchant if you’d tagged him right. A merchant who suddenly looked very nervous.

“ _Bloedzuiger’s_ dead. So are the drowners. I’ll take the rest of my pay now.” Geralt’s deep, rough voice sent a chill through you. Gods, you’d missed that voice.

“I paid you up front, Witcher. Even made a point of telling people that I’d done so. You aren’t getting more out of me now.” Sweat beaded on the lying man’s brow as his gaze darted around the room. Probably looking for someone to back him up.

Geralt hummed. “I wouldn’t kill a ghoul for what you gave me up front.”

“That’s not my problem. I paid and you did the work. It’s not like you can bring the creature back to life.” The merchant seemed very proud of himself. As if he’d pulled some great trick on the witcher.

You sighed and stood. Geralt didn’t need your help. He had his own ways to get his payment, but none of them would endear him to the townspeople. “He might not be able to, but I can.” You couldn’t actually, but they didn’t know that.

Geralt turned with a lifted brow. He ran his eyes over your length and back up. The corner of his mouth kicked up ever so slightly. “Y/N.”

“Geralt,” you responded with your own twitch of the lips. Your gaze shifted back to the man at his side. “Now, about that payment.”

“You’re Y/N? The mistress of night and slayer of injustice?”

What fresh misery was this? You turned your head to look at Jaskier who gave you a sheepish smile and a little wave. Damn bard. Geralt’s smile grew a bit wider.

“Yes, that’s me apparently. Money? Or would you prefer to be in a ballad yourself? Strictly in a slain enemy capacity of course.”

He tossed a bag of coins on the bar. “I don’t want no trouble. Times is tough, that’s all. You can’t blame me for trying to save some coin.”

Geralt hummed again and snatched the bag from the counter. As he ambled to the table, you motioned the barkeep for food and drink for the three of you. The witcher sat beside Jaskier and you took the spot directly across from him. Neither of you spoke as you just looked each other over.

When your ales were placed on the table, Geralt broke the silence. “It’s been awhile. You look…good.”

“You look filthy. How was the swamp?”

“Damp.”

“Of course, it was.” You rolled your eyes at his simple answer. Jaskier’s gaze kept darting between the two of you as if waiting for something monumental to happen.

Three bowls of stew were placed on the table and Geralt lost his patience with you. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

You arched a brow as you took a bite of your food. “Maybe I was just passing through.”

The look he gave you said he didn’t believe that for a moment.

“Fine. I need a favor.”

He paused with the spoon partway to his mouth. “What sort of favor?”

“Striga.”

He grunted. “That’s not a favor. That’s a job. A big one.”

You grimaced. “For what they’re paying, it’s definitely more like a favor.”

His amber eyes studied you. “Then the answer’s no. Besides, I’m in the middle of something.”

“You’re still looking for Yennefer.” Your heart twinged as you said the name. No matter how many times you warmed Geralt’s bed he always went back to Yen. And it hurt every single time.

The silence stretched. Finally, Geralt tore his gaze from you. “I haven’t found her yet.”

You pushed yourself to your feet. “Well then, I guess there’s no reason for me stay. Jaskier, good to see you again.”

Geralt grabbed your wrist as you passed him. “Sit. Down.”

With a sigh you took the seat beside him. “What?”

His gaze locked on yours again and his grip didn’t loosen. “You won’t go after the striga on your own. Promise me.”

When you didn’t answer, his hold tightened. “Swear it.”

“You won’t hear a word about me fighting a striga. I promise.”

He held you a moment longer, his thumb running along your pulse point. “Be careful.”

***

The thing about strigas is they were fueled by a need to feed. They didn’t care who they killed only that they got to eat. They were also strong and vicious. This particular beast was tormenting a poor village. The money they’d managed to get together wasn’t much, but it was everything they had. You needed to kill the beast to spare them any further suffering.

You checked the potions on your belt and your weapons one last time. The men standing in front of you shuffled their feet nervously. “Remember, no one goes out tonight. No matter what you hear. And if anyone asks—”

“Your name is Yvetta of Nilfgaard,” recited one of the men.

“Very good. Now go.” You watched them hurry off to lock themselves in their homes. You had promised Geralt he wouldn’t hear word of you hunting the striga. Yvetta was another matter entirely.

The cemetery that spawned the creature sat at the foot of some nearby ruins. As far as you’d been able to tell, that was where the striga stayed when she wasn’t hunting. As the sun dropped to the horizon you opened the jar of pig’s blood you’d brought with you and splashed it around one section of the ruins. This was the area you had prepared earlier. An intricate trap ready to be sprung with a touch and the whisper of a word.

A scrambling of claws came with full dark and you drew your sword. Taking a vial from your waist, you dumped the contents on your blade all the while hoping the creature wouldn’t get close enough for you to have to use it. After all, you were no witcher, just a witch that tried to right some of the wrongs in your world.

You strained your ears, but the sounds seemed to have stopped as suddenly as they started. You sucked in a breath and pushed all your senses to their limit trying to locate the creature. The searing pain at your back came with an unearthly shriek. It had snuck up behind you. There was nothing worse than a smart monster. Thankfully, your armor had blocked most of the impact. You’d be bruised for sure, but that was better than dead.

You fell forward and scrambled away before turning over. The circle was a short distance away waiting for you to finish the spell and you backed toward it as quickly as you could. The striga tilted her head as she looked you over and you got the feeling she was trying to figure out your plan. Your hands slid in the dirt and you curled your lip. Fantastic.

Finally, the power in your circle buzzed along your skin. You slapped your palm down and recited your word of power. A blue glow surrounded the area you were in and the striga immediately howled in panic. She lunged for the nearest opening in the wall and was bounced back. You kept your eyes on her while you withdrew another vial. If you timed things right you could take her down without her getting near you again.

Another word and a toss of the vial had a burst of flame shooting up from the floor and burning the beast. It screamed in outrage and pain. And then it turned those angry, beady eyes on you. Well, fuck. You tried to get to your feet, but the striga was too fast. She lunged, pinning you to the ground. You plunged a dagger into her side and she lifted her arm as she screamed. One swipe of those claws across your throat and you were done.

You grasped desperately at your waist trying to draw another vial but the beast was too heavy and had you pinned too thoroughly. You closed your eyes and braced for the impact. Instead, warm liquid covered you followed by another screech from the striga.

The weight was suddenly gone and you opened your eyes. Realizing you were covered in blood that was not your own, you wiped a hand down your face and pushed yourself up. There, at the other end of the small room you’d blocked off was Geralt fighting the striga who was now missing part of her arm. It laid a short distance away from you where he must have severed it to keep her from clawing you.

You got to your feet quickly, weaving slightly from the pain in your back. Geralt fought the beast, his eyes black from some potion he’d consumed before the battle. Your fingers found the vial you’d been searching for earlier and you launched it at creature. It exploded across the striga’s back and you yelled the elder word for stop. The creature immediately froze and Geralt took full advantage to end the beast. The striga was no more.

You looked between it and Geralt who stood over it panting. You wondered briefly if you could sneak away without him noticing. He was going to be pissed. After a moment, he put his sword away and turned to face you. You expected him to yell at you. To tell you that you were an idiot and he was never helping you again.

What you did not expect was for him to eat the ground up between you with several long strides. Before you could even think of reacting, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck and he pulled you forward. His lips slammed into yours and tension flowed from your body as your hands found his chest. The kiss was long and needy. When he finally pulled back, his jaw was still tight.

“You lied.” His already deep voice had dropped even lower. Yeah, he was pissed.

“Technically, I said you wouldn’t hear about me fighting a striga. I’m fairly certain you didn’t, so no lie.”

“Y/N.” That was nothing more than a growl. He released you and paced away from you. “Why would you go after the striga alone? You know how dangerous they are. Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Geralt, these people have nothing. Less than nothing. Do you really expect me to stand aside and let them lose their lives as well? I had to try.”

He spun to face you, hands clenched at his sides. “And if you failed?”

“Well, then they at least would know someone cared enough about their fate to try to change it.” This all seemed perfectly reasonable to you, but every word you spoke seemed to make Geralt angrier.

“And what was I to do if you died?”

You sighed. “You would find another witch, Geralt. As memory serves you were on your way to find one the last time I saw you, so why are you here?”

He licked his lips. “Because I need you.”

You lifted your brows but said nothing. He didn’t need you. He needed Yennefer. You were just a convenient substitute for when she wasn’t around.

He sighed and tore his gaze from yours. “Yennefer hasn’t been in my bed since White Hall. No one has other than you.”

That was the first time the two of you slept together. “Don’t lie to me, Geralt. It doesn’t suit you.” It would take both hands for you to count the number of times he’d left you somewhere to run after Yennefer.

“I never lie.”

It was true that you’d never known him to lie before but if what he said was true, you’d suffered so much heartbreak for nothing. You shook your head, not even wanting to discuss this right then. “Let’s go back to the village. I need to get cleaned up.”

He grasped your arm and turned you back to face him. His hand cradled the side of your face. “Why are you crying?”

“Am I?” You moved to wipe the tears away, but he beat you to it. You licked your lips. “I’m not a fool, Geralt. I know where I stand in importance to you. And I tried to be okay with it because I love you. But I can’t do this anymore.” You took a step back. “So, thank you for your help and maybe I’ll see you around someday.”

“No,” he growled as he grabbed you and pulled you back to him. “You are not saying goodbye.” His lips slammed into yours and you couldn’t resist kissing him back. He tangled his fingers in your hair and held you in place as he pulled away and pressed his forehead to yours. “I don’t deserve you. I told myself to keep my distance, but fuck it. I don’t care anymore. I need you, Y/N. No one else just you.”

“What about me?” came from the darkness, startling a laugh out of you.

Geralt growled. “Jaskier, if this ends up in one of your songs you’ll wish that drowner had eaten you.”

“But what an epic tale it would be. The white wolf and the mistress of night.”

You shook your head and looped your arms around your witcher’s neck. “No. This one’s about Geralt and Y/N.” And his lips found yours again.


End file.
